


even in the smallest events (there's no such thing as coincidence)

by MYuzuki



Series: Chaos Legion drabbles [2]
Category: Chaos Legion (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, First Meetings, Gen, Headcanons are used generously, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, because there is so little canon backstory in the game itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MYuzuki/pseuds/MYuzuki
Summary: Sieg is fifteen when he first meets them.
Relationships: Sieg Wahrheit & Siela Riviere, Sieg Wahrheit & Victor Delacroix, Siela Riviere/Victor Delacroix (implied)
Series: Chaos Legion drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765939
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	even in the smallest events (there's no such thing as coincidence)

Sieg is fifteen when he first meets Siela, and Delacroix by extension.

He doesn't even really notice her at first, one medic among a dozen that the Order has brought in to help the wounded townsfolk of Auberlun who had gotten caught in the crossfire when a bevy of black witches summoned a horde of demons in an attempt to showcase their power.

Sieg had been sent in to neutralize the threat, to use his Legions to battle the demons and eradicate the witches responsible for summoning them.

He had, technically, succeeded. The witches were dead, and the demons banished once more.

With four broken ribs, several gashes, and an unknown amount of internal bleeding, however, it doesn't feel like much of a victory for him personally.

That's nothing unusual, though, not when it comes to his missions. As one of the few Legionators that the Order has at its disposal (the process for making someone a Knight of the Dark Glyph is a grueling ordeal that very few survive, not that the Order would deign to divulge such controversial information to the masses), he's often thrown headfirst into dangerous situations that would be downright deadly if he didn't have the Legion Crests in his arsenal.

After all, one lone person with a sword can't do much when faced with an entire coven of bloodthirsty witches, to say nothing of the vicious demons those witches had summoned. But one lone man who could summon Legions? The odds for that scenario were _much_ more favorable.

Looking at the situation from a pragmatic standpoint, sending Sieg in by himself had been in the right _tactical_ decision.

Doesn't make him any happier about it, though.

He sits there brooding for an undetermined amount of time, lurking in the corner of Auberlun's town hall as other members of the Order bustle around trying to restore a semblance of normalcy to the little village. He has no desire to stick around any longer than absolutely necessary, but until he gets orders to leave the area and move on to the next crisis that needs his attention, he has to stay.

(He'd made the mistake of disregarding the Order's chain of command only a handful of times since they'd first 'adopted' him and turned him into a Legionator; the resulting fallout is not an experience he wants to repeat, and so he waits for his orders.)

Then a young blonde woman approaches him. Seeming to be only a few years older than he is, she has a kind face and worried eyes as she comes closer.

The blatant concern in her expression makes his skin itch uncomfortably; he's not accustomed to such looks being directed his way and has absolutely no idea what to about it.

"Hello," she says in greeting. "I'm Siela. You look like you could use a little patching up," the young woman goes on, gesturing to the gash across his right collarbone, her fingertips trailing little sparks of healing magic as they drift through the air even as she pats the medic's satchel at her waist with her other hand. "May I?"

Sieg twitches before he can stifle the motion, and quickly turns it into a head-shake. "No thanks," he tells her. "I'll be alright. You should focus on the people who need help."

Siela gives a small smile. "From where I'm standing, you look like you could use a little help."

Sieg scowls, then glances down at himself, gaze catching and lingering on the way the tears in his clothing are starting to stain red from the blood that's soaking into them.

He supposes form an outside perspective, he is looking a little worse for wear.

Then again, he _feels_ worse for wear, too; being a Legionator may grant him greater resilience to damage and a slightly accelerated healing rate, but none of that helps mitigate the pain that comes from being wounded. And depending on how critically injured he is, his injuries might not fade so quickly.

If he was inclined towards reasonable behavior, he'd probably acknowledge that he could use a little help on the healing front.

As it stands, however, he's not feeling very reasonable; he's tired and in pain and wants to be left alone.

"I'll be alright," he tells her again, crossing his arms and leaning away as she purses her lips and regards him with an intense expression. "…What?"

"You are very stubborn," she informs him, as if this is in any way relevant. "You should let me help you."

"I'm fine," he insists. Of course, his curt dismissal is entirely ruined when he coughs up a mouthful of blood not even ten seconds later.

Siela arches a single eyebrow, her expression caught somewhere between incredulous and judgmental. "Mm-hm," she says, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

Sieg gives an irritated huff, dragging the back of one hand across his mouth to wipe away the blood that's trickling down his face. "I _will be_ fine," he corrects, even as his broken ribs send jolts of pain lancing through his torso.

Siela doesn't quite roll her eyes at him, but the sentiment is clearly there in the way she puts one hand on her hip and regards him with a look of low-key frustration. "Let me help you," she says. "Your condition could worsen without care; those wounds could get infected, and the broken ribs that you're trying to hide by sitting still could do damage to your lungs. Now," she continues, "shall I go on listing everything that could go wrong, or can I get to work?"

A young man with long pale hair drifts over towards where Siela is haranguing Sieg in the corner of the room. "A difficult patient?" he asks, sounding amused.

"Something like that," Siela acknowledges with a wry smile, slanting the other man a warm look. "Is your patrol done already, Delacroix?" she asks him.

He gives a low hum of confirmation. "Yes, we finished scouting the area for signs of residual demonic activity. There's some leftover infernal energy, but nothing actively dangerous. An Order commander should be here shortly to assess the situation," he adds almost as an afterthought.

It takes Sieg a moment, but thanks to the conversation between the two of them he places the other man's identity: Victor Delacroix, a young noble who's being fast-tracked for leadership within the Order. Rumor has it that he's a skilled warrior, talented both in swordsmanship and sorcery, but Sieg interacts so little with the rest of the Order that he honestly couldn't say one way or the other if that reputation is accurate.

"Perfect," Siela says now, turning back to face Sieg while still speaking to Delacroix. "Since you're done with your security sweep, you're free to do as you like, yes? So help me convince my new friend here to let me treat his wounds."

Sieg doesn't _quite_ flinch at her use of the word 'friend' but it's a close thing; he knows Siela doesn't mean it with any sort of sincerity, it's just one of those things that people say, but even so it makes something inside of him shudder.

(He doesn't _have_ friends, hasn't had any since the Order had snatched him off the streets as a child; even before then, the closest thing he'd had were the other street rats he traded supplies with for survival.

And since 'joining' the Order, well…

Possessing an inordinate amount of destructive power, it turns out, is not great for getting people to like you.)

"I really am fine," he says again, standing up from the supply crate he's been using as a bench and moving to leave.

"Yes, you look it," Delacroix drawls, stepping directly into his path and halting his escape attempt. "Just let Siela help you, hm? I assure you," he adds with a faint smirk, "going along with what she wants is far less painful than refusing. She's the most tenacious medic you'll ever meet in your life. It's rather frightening, honestly."

Siela smacks Delacroix on the arm. "Stop that," she says, but there's laughter in her voice as she glares at him. "We're trying to convince him to stay, not scare him away."

In the end, the entire argument is rendered moot when an Order official strides into the town hall and starts bossing everyone around as if they hadn't been managing things perfectly well without his input this entire time. The official ushers Siela away from Sieg, sending her to tend to some elderly women who are complaining of aches in their joints and blithely ignoring her objections over Sieg needing more immediate treatment ("Please, don't concern yourself, Lady Siela; I assure you, the Legionator will be perfectly fine") and sends Delacroix off in a similar fashion ("I think one more patrol to search for any lingering demonic entities is a splendid idea, don't you agree?") before turning to address Sieg directly.

"We've received word of an incident in Osterwald," the official tells him, tone clipped and curt. "Go there and investigate. If there is a threat to the Order present, make sure to eliminate it."

Sieg nods, even as he tries to fathom how he's going to travel a hundred leagues to the northern wilds of Arcana with broken ribs. "Understood."

"Excellent. Dismissed."

"Sir," Sieg says in acknowledgement and turns to go.

He manages to make it all the way to the outskirts of the village before Siela catches up to him, and it's surprise at being pursued more than anything that makes Sieg's steps stutter to a halt.

"...Did you need something, healer?" he asks, eyeing her warily.

"I'm more concerned with what _you_ need." And then before he can ask her what exactly she means by that, "Here," Siela says, holding out her satchel of medical supplies towards him.

Sieg stares at her. "…What."

"I don't care what that commander says, you're clearly still injured. And I know that as Legionator you have an important duty that can't wait," she goes on, "but your well-being is important, too. So…here. There should be enough supplies in there to help you at least a little bit." She thrusts the satchel at him again and he's too startled by her vehemence to do anything other than accept it. "If you travel by carriage for part of your journey," she adds, "that should give you an opportunity to at least bind your ribs and bandage the worst of your lacerations." She gives him a warm, if somewhat strained, smile. "I wish you a safe journey, Legionator," she says, giving a brief curtsy before turning to go. "Farewell."

"My name is Sieg," he blurts out, then immediately scowls at himself because _why_ did he just say that. It's not like he's ever going to see this woman again, there's no need to be volunteering personal information like that.

(He thinks that perhaps it's because she called him Legionator. It's indisputably what he is, and that's never going to change, but it would be nice if someone looked at him and thought 'Sieg' instead of just 'Knight of the Dark Glyph'. To be seen as an actual person instead of just one of the Order's Knights.)

Siela pivots in place and graces him with a beaming smile, as if he's just given her a gift. "Sieg," she repeats. "A good name." She curtsies again. "Safe travels, Sieg. I hope we meet again someday."

Sieg doesn't bother pointing out how unlikely that is, how in all likelihood he's never going to see this woman or her pale-haired partner ever again, and instead just nods.

"…I hope so, too," he murmurs, too low for her to hear, and then they're parting ways to resume their duties, Sieg heading north towards Osterwald while Siela returns to Auberlun.

He doesn't expect to see her or Delacroix again.

(He's reluctantly glad to be proven wrong when he returns to Rotarl for a brief respite between missions a few months later and promptly crashes straight into the two of them outside the Order's main dining hall one night.

Somehow they end up an inseparable trio not long after that, and while Sieg isn't entirely sure how it happens he's also not about to complain.)


End file.
